


Had Me A Blast

by noodlecatposts



Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Cross-Posted on Tumblr, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, How DID Cassian Get Banned From Summer, Not The Actual Story But Rather the Aftermath, Rhys POV, This Has Bothered Me Forever, has this been done before?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-12
Updated: 2019-11-12
Packaged: 2021-01-29 01:34:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21401983
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/noodlecatposts/pseuds/noodlecatposts
Summary: Cassian had too much fun at the Summer Court.Or, that time Rhys bailed his Illyrians out of the Summer Court drunk tank.
Relationships: Azriel & Cassian & Rhysand (ACoTaR), Azriel & Cassian (ACoTaR), Cassian & Rhysand (ACoTaR)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 51





	Had Me A Blast

**Author's Note:**

> I'd intended to write specifically of Cassian's shenanigans (something that I always find myself wondering about), but Rhysand decided to take the lead- so, here we are.
> 
> Enjoy. <3
> 
> _11/15/19; Minor, grammatical edits made._

**Rhysand POV**

My steps echo as I make my way through the beautifully bejeweled halls of the Palace of Adriata. Blinking the last vestiges of sleep from my eyes, I make a mental note to never bring Amren here. Else I find myself trying to talk our way out of an international crisis after she inevitably gets caught trying to pry a gemstone or three out of the palace's glimmering walls.

I sigh. It seems I’ve found myself in a bit of a crisis anyways.

I find my Illyrian warriors huddled together in a rather tight holding area in the lower levels of the palace. With their wings tucked in tightly, Azriel and Cassian just barely fit side by side on what otherwise would be a rather spacious seat. I eye them from my place in the shadows, the early light of the just rising dawn having not yet breached the windows.

Guards line the wall of the already cramped room, each shining in their rather ostentatious blue and silver armor. The two guards that fetched me hover, uncomfortably at the threshold. They're here to lead me to their captain, the white-haired, sour-faced fae standing in the center of the room, but they're also afraid of me, afraid of what I might do to them, were they to break protocol and enter a room before me, before a High Lord.

I decide to take mercy on them; I stroll into the room like I belong, like my stomach doesn't roil with nerves or feelings of inadequacy. No, I channel the fear into something useful, something with purpose. Instead of allowing my body language to say _I am afraid._ I let it read as _Fuck you. I'm the High Lord of the Night Court._

The guards and their captain eye me with distrust, but I pay them no mind. Particularly, the captain. He's of no interest to me. I only have eyes for the Illyrians in the room; one hanging his head in shame and the other drunk out of his fucking mind.

Azriel is the first to look up, having been staring at his hands with a particularly uncharacteristic scowl marring his usually stoic features. I find that his hair is even more wild than usual; it sticks up in odd places, including directly up from his forehead. It’s been at least a century since I last saw that forehead.

“Rhys,” the Shadowsinger breaths, exhaustion and relief evident on his face. Cassian jolts at the sound of my name; his head snaps up so fast that I half expect the appendage to detach itself. Sand scatters from the male’s shoulders, falling from one scale in his Illyrian leathers to stick in the groove of another.

If I thought Azriel’s hair was a mess, Cassian’s hair is a downright calamity. I eye their appearances with scrutiny as I step into the center of the room. They’re both covered in sandy grime now that I take a better look at Azriel, and they positively reek of alcohol. Just what have these bastards been up to while I slept soundly in my bed?

“Tell me, did you drink any of the liquor, or did you lot just decide to bath in it?” The soldiers shift at the sound of the edge in my voice; their shiny armor catches the light when the move, but I pay them no mind. I only have eyes for my troublesome brothers. At least I had the sense of mind to leave Morrigan at home, or she'd be sitting right her too, squished onto the bend in between their hulking frames.

I'm not certain there's enough room for them all to fit on the seat, but I've never seen that stop them before.

“Of course, we drank it you bastard!” Cassian declares a bit too loudly. Az’s sigh is one of long-suffering.

“He’s still a bit drunk, as you can see… And smell.” Azriel wrinkles his nose in distaste. Now I sigh.

“I’ll have you know, Cassian.” I drawl as I near them, drawing my shoulders up straight so that I might tower above them. Remember: you're the High Lord. You scare them. “That I was just pulled out of a particularly good dream; so, you better have a very good reason for my being here.”

My voice seethes at him. I have to be careful not to let my walls down, not here in front of the guards of another court. I supplement my forced malice with my very real desire to throttle this idiot of mine. When the guards shift uncomfortably, I know I have done my job.

Cassian gives me a conspiratorial smile. “I have the very best of reasons, m’lord.”

Azriel lifts his eyes to the heavens in a silent prayer. The guards brace behind us, afraid of what that means that I will do, but I know better than to believe that Azriel is afraid of what comes next, or me. Rather, the quietest member of our circle is wishing right now that he were anywhere else but here.

I feel similarly inclined.

“And what are those reasons?” I murmur to Cassian. The brute grins like a fiend, sucking in a deep breath to no doubt burst my ear drums with his answers. He’s a bloody loud drunk when it suits him.

“I’m afraid we got into some trouble,” Azriel provides, saving me from whatever Cass’s proclamation was going to be. Cassian releases his breath in a big whoosh, deflating like one of the paper lanterns we light during the Summer Solstice. I watch as a lock of dark hair falls into Cass’s face, dirty and matted; he swipes it away with a flourish.

“Shh!” With one finger to his lips, Cassian leans suggestively into Az’s space. To his credit, the Shadowsinger does balk at the invasion; he eyes his brethren with utter exasperation, but I can see the soft edges of fondness hidden within his unimpressed glare.

“We weren’t gunna tell him!” Cassian whisper shouts. “He never has to know we got into a fight!”

“That’s what you did?” I ask, relieved. “You got into a fight?”

That I could work with. There wasn’t even any blood on their armor. It couldn’t have been that bad.

“Yeah, and we kicked their asses!” Cassian cheers, throwing a fist into the air in triumph. The guards are clearly displeased with his announcement, and the captain levels Cassian with an impressive frown.

Azriel and I share a look. I struggle to stifle the laughter that threatens me, but then Az says something that wipes all the humor from my face.

“He also leveled the revelry district,” Azriel at least looks apologetic to have to tell me. Cassian on the other hand clutches at his chest in absolute horror, betrayal written clear as day on his face.

“You did what?” My voice is carefully calm, even as my mind spins with the implications of this news. I was doing so well here. We were going to have allies here—in Summer. Eyes on Spring—on that bastard Tamlin. How would the High Lord of Summer react to this blatant attack on his territory? None of the other courts has any love for Night, much less the Illyrians. Does this mean my would-be allies might plan to retaliate? Quickly, I calculate the odds, the potential targets. At least they cannot get to Velaris, but what of the other cities? Our merchant ports?

“How. Could. You?” Cassian cries at Azriel, betrayed; it brings me back to the present. “We’re brothers!”

Azriel pinches the bridge of his nose. I sense one of those infamous headaches coming on for him; I have one of my own brewing, it would seem. “Rhys is also our—”

“Rhysie!” Cassian shouts, cutting off Azriel from saying the word _brother_. He waves brazenly at me—as if to say _We’re undercover right now_. “Is the High Lord of _Night.”_

Then the bastard shoots a wink in my direction. _See what I did there?_

Azriel’s eyes fall closed, mutters in stage-whisper: “Let me be the first to the executioner’s block. This one’s thick head will clearly blunt the sword too much to make my end sufficiently swift.”

A laugh escapes one of the guards, breaking their obvious protocol of remain indifferent. I shoot him my best Lord of Night glare until he and his neighboring guard begin to tremble with fear. The only person that gets to laugh about the murder of my brothers is me.

“And what, pray tell, possessed you two to do such a thing?” I turn the force of my glare onto my brothers. Azriel’s wings shuffle once in discomfort, folding his hands back into his lap. Try as he might, even Az can't resist the threat from his alpha. The guards confiscated all their weapons when they took them into custody, and Azriel clenches his sword hand, a tell if there ever was one; it’s clearly unnerving the Shadowsinger to be without his Truth Teller.

Cassian’s grin is persistent, oblivious to my anger. “A girl,” he breathes as if he’d seen a goddess amongst men. The way his hazel eyes sparkle could be an effect of the alcohol or, perhaps, just a sign of his infatuation.

“And just what was this girl’s name?” I ask him, curious against my better judgement.

Another sigh from Azriel. Cassian pouts. “I don’t know. She wouldn’t tell me.”

I sigh, pocket my hands and eye my brothers very carefully. Then I turn at last to the head of the guard. The male is broad shouldered—handsome I suppose but not as handsome as me. “I don’t suppose this is all a big misunderstanding, Captain, uh—”

I raise a brow to him in a silent request for his name.

“Varian,” the male replies. "My lord," he adds, unable or unwilling to break with the proper etiquette. He tilts his head, and I see a sparkle of mischief in his eyes as he pretends to think something over. “And it could be—under one condition.”

I fight the urge to blurt out _Name it!_ It's a fault of mine, this instinctual desire to throw myself onto a blade to keep one of my own from taking the hit. I bite my tongue to resist.

Instead, I choose to eye my nails disinterestedly and wait for the captain to clarify. A glance in the direction of my brothers rewards me with the penetrating gaze my Shadowsinger levels at the guard detail. I know him well enough to know that he's calculating an escape plan should the cost of a peaceful release be too high. Cassian’s mouth, on the other hand, has formed a drunken O. Hopefully, Az is factoring the oaf in as a hindrance rather than an asset.

“The High Lord and the Princess are willing to overlook this indiscretion, so long as that one,” Captain Varian nods in the direction of my drunken brother, “never returns to the Court of Summer—in no uncertain terms, whatsoever.”

Cassian sucks in a breath, his eyes wide. “But the beaches!”

I shoot him a look to be quiet. Azriel looks thoughtful; we share another glance, considering.

“I’ve had enough of beaches for this lifetime, I think.” The Shadowsinger decides. He taps at the chest of his armor once; sand rains down his front, and he grimaces, displeased with the result.

“I accept those terms.” I tug at the lapels of my jacket, pick at invisible lint on the dark fabric. “And I do believe we’ll be taking our leave… just as soon as their weapons are returned.”

I raise a brow in question; the Captain sighs but nods in the direction of his men. Hesitantly a few of the guards approach the Illyrians, blades in hand. Looking at them now, I notice they’re the ones in the group wearing fresh bruises. A few carry their weight more on one leg than the other. It would appear that these are the brave souls who tried to reign Cassian in. Brave souls.

My brothers, on the other hand, appear fine, uninjured but positively filthy.

I make a note to ask Azriel how he managed to talk Cassian down from a total bloodbath.

"Excellent," I say. "Do bid a goodbye to your masters for me."

Captain Varian gives a terse nod.

#

“It was one building!” Cassian moans as he stomps after Azriel and I. It reminds me of the time my mother grounded the three of us for setting fire to the settee in the living quarters. She'd made us work to earn the money to pay for a new one. We hadn't been allowed to socialize with others until it was replaced. And when Azriel appeared unaffected by the decision—perfectly content to read instead— she removed all the books from our home.

I swallow the old, familiar grief.

“Yes, a single building attached to _other _buildings, Cassian.” Azriel explains the matter to our brother as if he were a child. He cradles Truth Teller in the crook of one arm, like a babe. “When you knocked down one, the others went with it,” he gestures with his fingers. “Like dominoes.”

I allow for an amused smile now that we’re away from the prying ears and eyes of the Summer guard. Make no mistake, there are eyes on the three of us even now, but in the narrow, underground hall, I find it safe to lower my guard a tad.

“Just answer me one question: if the revelry district is to the east,” I point in the general direction, “how did you lost end up covered in sand? Considering the beaches are nowhere nearby?”

Cassian sobered up marginally in the time it took us to prepare for our departure. To my delight, the brute’s cheeks dust with crimson. Azriel scowls.

“Because this idiot,” Az shoves at Cassian’s shoulder, knocking the other Illyrian into the wall. I cringe as the plaster cracks, “managed to mix North with West, when I told him to run for it.”

“I was running for the nearest boat,” Cassian explains, reaching for Azriel for his revenge. The Shadowsinger dodges quickly to avoid being tackled down to the glimmering tile floor. 

“From there we could have made our getaway, hid in one of the cabins!” Cass proclaims; it’s clear he doesn’t understand how Azriel could be so confused on the matter.

“All of the boats belong to Summer, Cass. They’d never agree to stow you away—Besides we have wings, you idiot!” Azriel pinches the bridge of his nose again, tries to regain his temper.

I’m guessing that by now, he wishes he had partaken in more of the drink that led to tonight’s events. I certainly am.

“Run for it?” I back track on what Azriel said before. “And leave me with the consequences?”

Veritable cowards.

Azriel has the decency to look apologetic if a bit mischievous. The twinkle of mirth in his eyes reminds me of the boy who stole the matches from Devlon, who dared Cassian that he couldn’t convince me to try and control the flame. I’m the idiot who decided I could. It was all Az’s fault, and my mother knew it.

Az gives me a delicate shrug. “I like my head where it is.”

“With that astute observation, let’s hurry and get out of here,” I tell them. “Before I change my mind and decide to leave you bastards here for not waking me up to join you.”

We pause, and suddenly, I can’t help it. I laugh. Azriel smiles gently at my happiness, and Cassian grins like the cat that got the cream.

Then he narrows his eyes accusingly at Azriel. “Hey, why didn’t you get banished? You helped.”

Azriel’s face is carefully guarded under interrogation, and I pause my steps once more to get a better look at the devil.

“Because,” Azriel pretends to look thoughtful. “I didn’t tell the Captain of the Adriata guard, and I quote: You wish your hair was as beautiful as mine, you _fucker_.” He delivers the line deadpan, and I’m reminded again how easy we got out of this. “Then you challenged him to a dance off.”

“I would’ve won, too.” Cassian grumbles, not bothering to argue the point. I close the distance between my brothers. Here’s as good a place as any to get the hell out. “Cheeky bastard was just afraid to lose.”

Azriel’s expression is pleading. “Can _we_ kill him? Please?”

“Now, now, children.” I chide.

And I winnow us home.

**Author's Note:**

> Would Varian be the captain of the guard at this time? Who's even the High Lord? Ah, oh well.
> 
> Perhaps if I can find the appropriate Cassian-headspace, I'll write down his and Azriel's (mis)adventures. I'll post it as a second chapter if I do.
> 
> Thank you for reading!

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [We Gotta Stop Doing This](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21539305) by [noodlecatposts](https://archiveofourown.org/users/noodlecatposts/pseuds/noodlecatposts)


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